


Set In Stone

by jesus_buck



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Infinity War spoilers, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 14:16:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14594799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesus_buck/pseuds/jesus_buck
Summary: Both Bucky and Y/N had given up on finding their soulmates for different reasons. But maybe they gave up too soon.





	Set In Stone

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, don't mind me, I'm just here trying to deal with my Infinity War feelings ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

n a world of uncertainty, most people found comfort in their soul mark. Everyone was born with one: a date printed in black somewhere on their left arm. Their soulmate’s birthday.

That information on its own was mostly useless… after all, hundreds of thousands of people were born each day. But your soulmark always made sure you couldn’t miss your other half. Once it determined that you were emotionally ready, it would tingle and glow faintly when you were near your soulmate. The closer you physically got to each other, the brighter the glow would become until it was a blinding beam of light, only stopping when you touched the other person’s mark.

When you did, the light would fade and the black of the mark would morph into a beautiful, shining silver. It would remain silver until one half of a marked couple died, when it turned to pure gold.

Not everyone was destined to be with someone else though… sometimes, it was your own birthday written on your arm. And when you finally loved yourself for the person you had become, it would glow and turn silver, fading to gold when you died. Y/N wished that was the case for her. It would have made all this easier.

You didn’t know how it happened. One minute you were helping a doctor prep for emergency field surgery in France, and the next you were waking up on an old bed in what appeared to be an abandoned cottage.

With some help, you eventually determined that you were in some sort of parallel universe. It looked just like a normal town, but certain things were off. For example, time passed normally here, but you didn’t age. All of this was perplexing, but what confused you the most was that your soul mark never turned gold.

Then, after 50 years of holding out hope, you decided that the laws of soulmarks probably didn’t apply here. He had to be dead.

* * *

James Buchanan Barnes always thought he’d have met his soulmate by now. He certainly thought fate would let them meet before he went overseas to fight, but it never did.

He worried about her. Was she safe at home? Was she one of the selfless women nursing soldiers far from home back to health? Or was she like Peggy, brave and unafraid to be on the front lines?

Bucky thought about her every day, and wrote her letters when he could. Some of the guys laughed at him for writing to someone whose name he didn’t even know. Although her name didn’t matter to him, he did feel silly writing to nameless person. So he began to call her  _Mar_ : short for March, the birth month they shared.

He left out the parts about being captured and tortured… he’d buried those memories deep, trying to forget. But he told her all about his friend Steve, and the Howling Commandos. He told her about the crazy situations they got into, and the crazier ways they got out of them. Bucky hoped that one day he could actually give the letters to her, to show her that he loved her before he even knew her.

When he fell from the train and lost his left arm, the mark re-appeared on his right forearm. He saw it move as he lay in the snow, waiting for death. He cried, apologizing over and over to a woman he never knew, but whom he loved with his whole heart. A woman whose mark would unexpectedly turn to gold, changing the path of her life forever.

When he woke up in Zola’s lab, they tried to cut his mark off. But it just moved further up his arm, seeming to run from the blade. When it finally landed over his heart, they gave up, just making sure it was kept covered and out of the Asset’s sight at all times.

It never turned gold, though. Not even now, when he finally had full control of his own mind again. He’d thought about trying to find her, apologizing to her, but what would be the point? She was well over 100 by now. Hell, he was, too. With his luck the universe would kill her just as he was about to find her, cruelly reminding him that his chance at happiness was long gone.

As they flew across the Wakandan countryside to fight Thanos, his thoughts drifted back to her. To the life they could have had. The life that he was fighting to be sure everyone could have with their soulmate.

The battle was a blur. But the end was clear as Bucky fell, calling for Steve, praying he knew what was happening and could stop it.

* * *

Bucky was sure he was dead. He had seen parts of his body disintegrate… so why was he feeling decidedly  _not dead?_  Was this some sort of afterlife?

He heard a soft voice calling to him, encouraging him to wake up. As he slipped back into consciousness, Bucky realized he was laying in a soft bed. He groaned, his body aching all over. His chest was tingling… it felt like it was on fire. The voice kept on, sweetly urging him to wake.

As he slowly opened his eyes, he was met by a blinding light. The voice suddenly quieted, and gasped softly. Bucky grunted, shielding his eyes with his hands. “Jesus! Turn the fuckin’ light off!”

“I… I… I can’t,” the voice murmured, shock lacing their words.

“‘S not hard, you just flick the fuckin’ switch,” he grumbles back.

“N-No, you don’t understand. I  _can’t_. It’s  _you_ … it’s  _me_ … it’s… it’s  _us_.” Her whispered words hit him like a freight train. Bucky forces himself to look down at his chest, at the mark he’s tried to forget about. It’s shining so brightly it’s like his shirt isn’t even there. He can clearly see the birthdate he knows as well as his own: 3.25.1917.

Frantically looking towards the voice, he sees a date staring back at him from someone’s wrist, so bright it looks like it’s on fire. He bolts upright, staring at the numbers slack jawed.

3.10.1917. It’s his.


End file.
